Man in the Corner 

Alone with my boyfriend, 

and his body was covered in bruises, 

after visiting his parents for what 

would be the last time; 

he quickly shuffles away 

all discussion about his father 

like a deck of expensive cards, 

and points to the flowers 

like an ordinary poet, 

then the moon,

but not too much the sun 

because that's where it happened, 

against all odds, he told me, 

he made it through. 

It wasn't too dissimilar 

from when he came out 

on a hot May afternoon,  

after we took each other to prom, 

and I danced enough 

in the hospital room for us both; 

of course it didn't match, but we laughed 

through the tears, and then 

meditated in quiet, like strangers passing 

then looking back on a crowded street, 

wondering who that was in another life, 

knowing they'll never meet again 

like light bouncing off a pair of mirrors 

now shattered and spread about 

the world's trash cans. 

We told jokes, and they were crass, 

dirty enough to be spit out 

on streets fled right before sundown, 

and I honored all that he asked 

kept quiet in the dusk, in the bramble, 

pressed my cheek against his shoulder 

and asked about the weather, 

to which we laughed, and laughed; 

the world radiates evil 

but also just as much good; 

one day he'll talk 

and I'll get every punch back 

even though he asks me not to 

and he knows this 

and I seek this; 

it's just the way of things, 

the blood disappearing  

into the river. 

Brandon Shane